corrija a letra Letra Don't Miss por Rylo Rodriguez

Featuring(s) : Jackboy

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Letra

[Rylo Rodriguez]
(Nile, I hear you)
(Damn, Kai, you goin' krazy)
G way

G way, I like to flex with hoes
If we run out of gas, go electric mode
The head wasn't shit, had me pissed cammode
No trouble with hits, they remixed the bowl
Tryna nut on her face, I won't miss your nose
She was gon' French, but I choked her, I ain't kissin' a ho
Whole team balling, we just gon' pick and roll
And we carrying the guns and I missed the show
f*ck these couches and tables, we stand on 'em
Your brother look bad, put your mans on
A wide body, she got a tan on
f*ckеd a booster, I slept with my pants on
What the hеll I look like doing a diss song?
I'm tryna make a don't miss song
(Pew-pew-pew-pew-pew)
I'm tryna make a don't miss song

[Rylo Rodriguez]
Said trapping is dead, bring bags to the funeral
I don't even got a bed don't care 'bout no rumors (room)
You don't hit nothin', no sweat, as long as you're shooting
I just want the bread, you can keep the communion
I'm with bae in the 'Vette, my old ho got a shit face
My hood on my trunk, they decided to switch places
I watched some niggas go to jail and they turning snakes
Hood hot laws out, you tell me which way
I got some homies in jail
We sharpen our knives, that turn to a blick, yeah
I'm going up elevators, jumped off and went to the stairs, I thought about Mitch
A lot of these niggas, they hoes and bitches, so we on they wig like spritz
Cranberry fruit cup, hot Cheetos, granny used to beat my ass with a switch
Your nigga a rat and I don't need to talk about it
That boy got caught and agreed to talk about it
Pistol, no, I cannot leave the house without it
MoMa, my shirt and my jeans was Off-Whited
I got some Wock in my pores
If you need it to be cleaned, do your chores
I watched niggas go marry the game
They threw they controllers when they got divorced
[Jackboy]
Bought a Cartier ring, I can't get divorced
Fell in love with Dior, would've thought I'm endorsed
All that dirty money, I'm not tryna do chores
Shop when I land, show the mall no remorse
Fly guy with bands, I could f*ck any whore
Get sloppy top then don't want her no more
f*ck all the opps, let's go take 'em to war
Running with sticks, that bitch came with a sword
The game feeling strange, lames in it for fame
They're goin' insane for a lil' piece of change
I got that bitch brain but didn't get her name
I kicked that bitch out, you made her your main
I figured it out, we just not the same
Used to be broke, look what I became
I could buy a car with each of my chains
Icy lil' nigga, gotta keep my flame
Bustdown Thotiana, no, I do not do plain
Picture perfect, I ain't even need a frame
When I was broke, I was the only nigga I could blame
Now I'm balling hard throwings bows in the paint
All these blue hundred make a broke ho faint
Pull up back-to-back coupe, me and gang switching lanes
Put the law on a chase, so much guns to explain
Get an opp out the way, all my shooters got aim

G way, I like to flex with hoes
If we run out of gas, go electric mode
The head wasn't shit had me pissed cammode
No trouble with hits, they remixed the bowl
Tryna nut on her face, I won't miss your nose
She was gon' French, but I choked her, I ain't kissin' a ho
Whole team balling, we just gon' pick and roll
And we carrying the guns and I missed the show
f*ck these couches and tables, we stand on 'em
Your brother look bad, put your mans on
A wide body, she got a tan on
f*cked a booster, I slept with my pants on
What the hell I look like doing a diss song?
I'm tryna make a don't miss song
(Pew-pew-pew-pew-pew)
I'm tryna make a don't miss song

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